City Lights Bookstore

down at the Goodwill store on the other side of town
i went shopping as a poet with my customary frown.
searching for my glory days on the off-streets of New York,
a spoon in my mouth still looking for a fork,
i found the Hamptons where Warhol bought his wig
and watched the revolution bar be que a pig,
and dealers of dope and modest health-food stores,
gurus signing posters and book shop whores
looking for lonely old Italian men with money,
eating and drinking, until someone calls them honey.
stretch limousines of social-register boys
came for breakfast and stayed to pet their toys.
an envelope delivered on a silver tray
when tea was served and cookies passed my way
said "Welcome!" inside so i rose to grab a drink.
a sentimental lady said it doesn't pay to think!
but if i could decide it would be in San Francisco
or rowing to my houseboat in the bay at Sausalito,
or in Carmel or North Beach for some theme-park rub
instead of sitting here in an old Manhattan club.